


The 5 Times Mark Was Blind and the One Time He Wasn't

by reindeerjumper



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, F/M, Fetish, Fetish Clothing, Glasses, I Blame Tumblr, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: Mark finally caves and admits that he needs glasses. Bridget doesn't realize how hot he'd be until she sees him in them. A 5+1 Times fic about Bridget secretly dying over her now nerdy boyfriend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for boothseeley at Tumblr! _Prompt - Bridget finding Mark sexy with glasses. Whatever comes to mind! Anything involving that haha :)_. I took it a step further and made it a 5+1!

**#1 -- The Initial Moment**

 

The first time Bridget saw Mark in his glasses, she couldn't get over how handsome he looked. She had always admired his amber eyes, and feared that they would be less noticeable behind a pair of glasses, but she was pleasantly mistaken. They actually frames his eyes beautifully, and it gave her an excuse to admire his elegant hands whenever one flitted up to his face to readjust them.  _ Mmm, yes. Those will do quite nicely.  _

Mark had come home one day from work, complaining of migraines and misspellings on documents that he clearly didn't mean. Bridget had to gently suggest that he get his eyes checked--he  _ was _ almost 45--and he begrudgingly made the appointment. The report came back that yes, he  _ did  _ need glasses, especially for reading purposes. 

When the time came for Mark to be fitted for his frames, he begged Bridget to come with him in only a way that Mark Darcy begged--with sullen looks and furrowed brows, never actually asking outright. Bridget knew that he was uncomfortable about the whole thing, so she volunteered to go with him. She could see him visibly give a sigh of relief. He had said with much aloofness, “I suppose, if you really wanted to join me.”

The trip to the optician’s was a quiet one--they were in a taxi, and Mark was on his phone. Bridget assumed it was for work, but upon closer glance, Bridget noticed he was looking up frames online. The phone in his hand was held at arm’s length, and his eyes were squinting with much effort. “Ohh, I like those,” Bridget murmured before she could stop herself. Mark quickly looked up, a flush on his cheeks. “Hm? What?” he said awkwardly as he stashed the phone in his pocket. 

The taxi pulled up to the curb outside of the optician, and the two of them got out. Once inside, the woman behind the counter practically threw herself at Mark. “Oh,  _ sir! _ You're going to look absolutely smashing in a pair of glasses. Do you mind if I pull a few frames that I think would work with your face shape?” Bridget rolled her eyes as Mark turned a shade of crimson. He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, that would be fine.” Bridget couldn't help smirking at Mark’s awkwardness--she knew he hated attention, and today was going to be nothing  _ but  _ that. 

Mark tried on several pairs of glasses that afternoon--wire-rimmed, heavy black, rimless--and he eventually settled on a pair of square, tortoiseshell glasses. He had hesitantly looked at her. “Well?” he had asked. “What do you think?”  _ Bloody hell _ , was Bridget’s initial thought.  _ Helloooooo, professor. _ She had to basically choke out her reply, which was a simple, “Really,  _ really _ nice.” 

Mark had smiled at her and lifted a hand to them. “Yes, I think I agree.” 

 

* * *

 

**#2 -- Two Weeks Later**

 

It had been two weeks since Mark had acquired his new glasses, and Bridget found herself weak in the knees every time he wore them. She hadn’t told him outright, because she knew he was still somewhat self-conscious about needing them, but she had started to catch herself fantasizing about him wearing them. Bridget had always been awful at hiding her feelings when it came to Mark, and she was genuinely surprised that he hadn’t picked up on her new fetish. She always felt doe-eyed and a bit dopey whenever he put them on.

For instance, they were sitting in Bridget’s living room on a Wednesday night, and she couldn’t take her eyes off of Mark. He had stopped by after work for dinner, and afterwards they had decided to relax on the couch. Bridget was playing Words With Friends on her iPad, and Mark was engrossed in a legal document he had brought home from the office. At first, Bridget was too caught up in finding a word to beat Shazzer’s 28-point “kickbox” to notice her boyfriend. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she looked over to him.

He was leaned back on her couch, his tie off and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. His sleeves were rolled up, and he had his long legs crossed. Bridget had seen him in this position plenty of times, but there was just something about the addition of his glasses that sent her over the edge.  _ Phwoar _ , she thought to herself.  _ He looks delicious sitting there like that.  _ She couldn’t stop staring at him as he pored over the document in his hand--the glasses were perched down near the tip of his nose, and he occasionally licked the tip of his pointer finger before he flipped to the next page. Bridget had to shift her body to suppress the urges that were starting to ignite inside of her.

As the couch cushions moved, Mark looked up and over at her. “Are you alright, Bridget?” he asked, looking over the top of his glasses at her.  _ Jesus Christ _ , she thought as she made eye contact with him. “Mmm, yes, I’m fine. Just a little...uncomfortable,” she replied, giving him a weak smile. Mark lifted his chin to look at her through the line of his bifocal and he said, “Anything I can do?” 

Bridget shook her head feebly. “No, no, I’ll be fine.”

* * *

 

**#3 -- Three Weeks Later**

 

It had now been almost a month since Mark’s bespectacled face had entered Bridget’s life, and she become increasingly more accustomed to seeing him wear his glasses. It was clear to Bridget that he was becoming more comfortable wearing them, but she also made note that she only really saw him at home when they were on. Her feelings towards them hadn’t changed--the fantasies were still a thing, and she had even had a few dreams about Mark in his glasses. Waking up was always the worst (and usually she awoke at a  _ very _ pivotal moment).

Tonight, Mark was taking Bridget out to dinner at their favorite restaurant. It was a casual Friday night for the two of them...as regulars at Gianni’s, they never felt the need to dress up. Mark had on a pair of brown pants and a half-zip sweater, and Bridget wore a pair of skinny jeans with a simple top. It was nice to go out with no expectations--these were usually the nights that they ended up walking around the city, hand-in-hand, talking about all sorts of things until they ended up back at Bridget’s flat. 

Mark took his spot across from Bridget after pulling her chair out for her, and their waiter placed the menus down in front of them. He winked at them both and said, “I’m sure you’ll just get the usual, but a menu never hurts.” As he walked away, Bridget smiled at Mark over the menu. “He’s probably right, isn’t he?” she said, glancing down at the options in front of her. Mark had a squint on his face as he looked down at the menu in front of him. 

“What’s that?” he asked her absently. 

 

“I said he’s probably right...about us getting our regular orders.”

 

“Oh. I’m not so sure. The fra diavolo actually sounds quite appealing tonight.” 

 

Bridget looked up at him in surprise. He never ventured away from his usual choice of ravioli, and fra diavolo was a bold deviation. When she looked up, Mark was no longer squinting--he had on his glasses, and he was looking over the menu with great attention.  _ Oh, fuck _ . He  _ never _ wore his glasses out in public, at least to her knowledge, and to see him wearing them with such confidence in a restaurant was a whole new arousal that she hadn’t expected. She cleared her throat.

 

“When, um, when did you start wearing your glasses in public?”

 

Mark looked at her over his menu. “Bridget, I need them to see.”

 

“Yes, I know that, I just have never seen you wear them out before. You usually wear them in my flat or at your house. It’s just...strange to see you wearing them in public.”

 

“Do you want me to take them off?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.”

 

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.” Mark had now placed the menu down on the table in front of him, his long fingers touching to make a point underneath his chin. The way he was now looking at her across the table made her squirm. The zipper of his sweater was slightly unzipped, and she could see the shadow his collarbone was making against his skin. His hair was slightly mussed--not the normal slicked back, court appropriate style that he wore everyday--and he was slightly slouched over. It was like being on a date with Mark’s relaxed alter ego. His eyes were scanning her face, a small smirk on his lips. 

 

“You really are beautiful, Bridget. I feel like I haven’t told you today.”

 

“Mark, you told me this morning.”

 

“Hmm, so I did. Well, you deserve to hear it again. You look lovely.”

 

“Maybe it’s because you can see me clearly, wearing those glasses.” Bridget couldn’t help mentioning them again, hoping it would open up the conversation she’d been dying to have with him, to tell him about her longings that were building up with each day. Mark just smiled at her, lifted his hand up to his face, and gently tugged the glasses off. “Don’t be silly, Bridget. I can see you just fine.” Bridget felt her shoulders deflate as she watched him stash the glasses in his jacket pocket.  _ God, even that’s hot _ . 

 

“So, what are you having for dinner?”

 

* * *

 

**#4 -- Four Weeks Later**

 

After their dinner at Gianni’s, Bridget made a conscious effort to try and suppress the feelings she had been having about her boyfriend. His glasses were becoming her main focus, and she felt like it was affecting their relationship. She still hadn’t told Mark how sexy she found him when he was wearing them, and she was actually embarrassed to bring it up.  _ I’ve gone this long without saying anything...it’d be awkward to bring it up now. _ So, Bridget made a pact with herself to focus less on the glasses and more on the person wearing them.

Bridget decided to make Mark dinner the week after Gianni’s. After leaving work, she whisked herself off to the market to pick up the ingredients she needed to make a quinoa dish she had seen on Pinterest.  _ If a blogger can make it, so can I,  _ she had thought smugly to herself as she pinned it to her board entitled, “Yummy Dishes”. All she needed to do was pop into the market to grab the quinoa and some chicken, then head straight back to her flat to start dinner before Mark showed up after work. 

After checking out at the register, Bridget carried her bag of groceries out the front door and started to walk down the sidewalk. She was looking at the faces of the people passing by, as she liked to do when she was out in public. Her pace was brisk as she walked the chilly November streets. She was across town, and she knew she had to grab the next tube to make it back to her neighborhood so that she could surprise Mark with dinner. 

 

What she hadn’t noticed was how close she was to Mark’s place of work. 

 

Bridget was waiting on the corner for the light to turn, when someone on the opposite corner caught her eye. There was a throng of people waiting on the corner just like her, but she caught a flash of light from someone much taller than the rest of the people around them. Mark was standing amongst the throng, his overcoat collar pulled up to trap the heat and his phone pressed against his ear. What had drawn Bridget’s eye, however, was the glint of sunlight flashing off of the lenses of his glasses. He looked so important, standing there on his phone, oblivious to those around him and oblivious to her on the opposite corner. Mark was speaking emphatically into the phone, his hands moving with emotion and vigor, and he kept gesturing with his head.  _ Must be work _ , Bridget thought as she watched him.

From all of the movement he was making, Mark’s glasses had started to slip down the bridge of his nose. He unconsciously lifted a gloved hand to push them back up his nose, then grabbed the outer frame to settle them comfortably on his face. Clearly he had become completely accustomed to wearing them--his mannerisms and motions were second nature. In the next breath, Mark hung up the phone, stowed it away in his coat pocket, and looked up to the light. 

This whole time, Bridget had been staring at him with intent sexual frustration. Even at a distance, she could see the flush on his cheeks from the cold and from the phone conversation. She could see the top of his necktie peeking out from the opening of his overcoat, and there was just something about that turned up collar that was  _ sexy _ .  _ And the glasses...oh, those glasses.  _ Bridget wanted to kiss him--she wanted her nose to smudge the lenses, to kiss him with so much passion and force that she knocked his glasses askew. 

Suddenly, Mark looked to her direction, realizing that she had been standing just a stone’s throw away. He lifted a hand to wave to her, his face breaking into a grin that pushed his glasses up on his cheeks. A tingle went through Bridget’s body as she looked at how cute he was. She feebly waved back as Mark held up a finger, indicating that he wanted her to stay there. Mark pushed his way to the front of the throng of people, looked both ways down the street, and then quickly ran across. 

He excused himself past the front row of people on the corner, sidling up next to her. “Hello,” he said, looking down at her with a smile. “Hello,” she replied. Mark slid his gloved hand around her waist and leaned down to kiss her. Bridget had to steel herself from kissing him with the passion she wanted to, and instead just pressed her lips against his with a little more force than normal. When the kiss broke apart, Mark’s glasses weren’t askew and her nose print wasn’t smudged on the front of the lenses, but his eyes were sparkling behind them as he looked down at her. 

“Missed you,” he murmured, readjusting the frames on his face. 

“Missed you, too,” Bridget replied, trying with increasing effort to focus on Mark instead of Bespectacled Mark.

 

* * *

 

 

**#5 -- Five Weeks Later**

 

The following Tuesday, Bridget went out with Shazzer and Tom for drinks and dinner. In a moment of wine-induced weakness, she confided in them about her newfound fetish. Shazzer snorted into her cocktail as Tom threw her a pitiful look, as if to say, “Poor Bridge.” Defiantly, Bridget defended herself saying, “Bugger off, the both of you. You haven't seen him yet, but it's  _ hot.  _ Like,  naughty professor you secretly lusted after in college hot.”

Tom took a sip of his beer and said, “Bridget, you sound like a mooning school girl. Just tell him that it turns you on and get at it like you two always do. You're both not getting any younger, so those glasses are going to be around  _ forever.”  _

“Mmm, Tom has a point, Bridge. How much longer can you  _ sexually torture  _ yourself?” Shazzer followed up with a wicked grin. Bridget shot daggers at her across the table. “You both are deplorable,” she said, and then took a large gulp of wine. Shazzer was now beside herself with laughter, pinching her straw between her fingertips as she silently rolled with laughter. She finally let out a wheeze of a laugh and wiped a tear from her eye.

 

“ _ What _ is so funny?” Bridget asked icily. 

 

“Sextacles.  _ SEXTACLES!  _ Like spectacles, but ones that make you think of sex!”

 

Tom looked at Shazzer with the same look he had given Bridget, rolling his eyes. “That’s the  _ least _ sexy thing I’ve ever heard, Shaz. It sounds like a sexy octopus, or something else that has sexy tentacles,” he said. At this, Shazzer lost it again, and Bridget couldn’t help cracking a smile.

 

\-  -  -  -  -

 

When Bridget left the bar, she texted Mark to let him know she was on her way home. He liked knowing that she was safe.

 

_ Bridget Jones @ 10:39 PM -- Leaving pub now. Hope you had a good night. Xxx _

_ Mark Darcy @ 10:42 PM -- Please be careful. Night was OK. Would’ve been better with you _

_ Bridget Jones @ 10:44 PM -- That’s always the case for me _

_ Mark Darcy @ 10:46 PM -- Pop over for a nightcap? _

 

Bridget smiled--she felt buzzed, satisfied from her meal, and now her boyfriend was texting her at almost 11:00 at night to stop over. She hailed a cab and poured herself into the back seat as she gave the cabbie Mark’s Holland Park address. 

When she got to Mark’s, she used the key he had given her years ago to let herself into his front door. The house was quiet, and most of the lights on the first floor were off. Bridget tiptoed through the landing, peeked her head into the kitchen, but was disappointed to find it empty. Fueled by the wine from dinner, she was determined to surprise Mark. She crept over the rest of the first floor, but didn’t find Mark.  _ Must be upstairs,  _ she thought to herself, and made her way up to the second floor landing. She could see Mark’s office light on, so she tiptoed her way down the hallway and nudged the door to the room open.

Mark was sitting at his oak desk, head in his hands while wearing those  _ bloody _ glasses. He still hadn’t fully changed from work--his crisp white button down had the top few buttons undone, and his sleeves were (as always) rolled up. Bridget took a deep breath, thinking back on her very recent conversation with Shazzer and Tom.  _ Must focus. Spectacles don’t make the man.  _ She pushed the rest of the door open, and Mark’s head snapped up.

 

“Hello, handsome,” Bridget said as she sauntered over the threshold.

“Bridget--I didn’t hear you come in. I’ve been so caught up in this case that I didn’t even think to go downstairs to let you in.”

 

Bridget walked across the office floor to stand behind Mark where he was sitting. She roped her arms around his neck, nuzzling into the smooth spot behind his ear. She heard him let out a little groan of satisfaction as his hands came up to cover hers on his chest. “It’s OK,” she purred in his ear. Bridget placed a few soft kisses along his earlobe, nipping it on the last kiss. Mark squeezed her hands affectionately and spun his chair around to look at her. Bridget tried not to focus on his face, choosing to instead look down at his lap. “May I?” she said sweetly, gesturing towards his splayed legs. 

Mark grinned and patted his knee. “Please, be my guest.” Bridget perched herself on the edge of his knee, looping her arms around his neck. She leaned forward to kiss him, and gently brushed her lips against his. Mark kissed her back with much more gusto than she expected, and Bridget felt her nose bump up against the lenses of his glasses.  _ Focus...FOCUS _ , she thought to herself as she balanced herself on Mark’s knee. His teeth were grazing her bottom lip and her tongue was running itself along his top lip. Mark let out another groan, breaking apart the kiss to whisper, “Fuck, Bridget,” before diving back into kissing her. 

“Why don’t we go to the bedroom?” she whispered into his ear, letting her breath tickle him. She felt his grasp on her arse tighten as she heard him growl, “Splendid idea.” Bridget leaned back to look at him...his glasses were askew on his face, sitting sideways with smudge marks on them. She thought back to the desire she had for this moment on the street corner last week, but the next  thing that was running through her mind was Shazzer’s gleeful face as she screeched, “ _ SEXTACLES, BRIDGE!” _

Before she could stop herself, Bridget let out a snort of laughter. Mark’s face dropped as he looked at her, and Bridget desperately tried to stifle the laughter that was now bubbling up from her throat. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m a bit pissed.” Mark grinned at her and said, “Hasn’t stopped us before.” 

Before she could protest, Mark whipped the glasses off of his face, lifted Bridget up in his arms, and whisked her off to his bedroom.

 

* * *

 

**The One Time Mark Wasn’t Blind**

 

The next morning, Bridget rolled over in Mark’s king-sized bed to find Mark already awake. He was leaning against some pillows propped against the headboard with no shirt on, reading the morning paper. His glasses were perched on the end of his nose as he took a sip of coffee. Mark looked over to her and smiled. “Good morning, my love,” he said. Bridget felt like she had been hit by a truck, her hair plastered to one side of her face and the pillow marks cutting across her cheek. 

 

“Mornin’,” she replied sleepily. “S’that coffee?” 

 

Mark grinned and reached over to his nightstand, where he magically produced a second cup. Bridget let out a thankful sigh of relief as she propped herself up next to Mark, pulling the white duvet up around her chest. “What would I do without you?” she murmured as she brought her lips down to the edge of her mug. Mark snapped his newspaper open and said, “Probably feel like shit after a night of drinking.”  _ He’s got me there,  _ she thought to herself as she took a thankful gulp. 

“I will say, however, that I’m not sure what  _ I’d _ do without  _ you _ ,” he continued, the paper still in front of his face. He was peering through the bifocals of his lenses, scanning the pages of the paper. Bridget looked over at him and gave him an inquisitive, “Hmm?” Mark turned his head to her, looking over the top of his frames, and said, “Last night was exactly what I needed.” Bridget felt a smug smile creep onto her lips as she lowered her face back down to the mug for another sip of coffee. 

A few moments slipped by as Bridget felt her batteries recharging. Mark was engrossed in the paper, occasionally taking a sip of coffee before turning the page. Bridget leaned over to her nightstand to put her mug down and check her phone. It was almost 7:00. “Mark, it’s almost seven...don’t you have to get to work?” she said, rolling back over to look at him. Mark peeked around the edge of the paper and said, “I thought I’d go in a little later today, seeing as I’ve got a beautiful woman in my bed.” 

 

Bridget laughed and said, “Goodness, Mr. Darcy. Are you feeling alright?” 

 

Mark closed the paper, folding it neatly before placing it on his nightstand. “I actually feel wonderful, Ms. Jones. In fact, I was wondering if you wanted to give last night another go...you look quite cute with your hair plastered to your head like that and I'm finding you  _ very  _ irresistible.” Bridget felt a blush creep onto her cheeks as she demurely lowered her eyes. 

Mark was now nuzzling into her neck, placing soft, tantalizing kisses along her jawline. Bridget could feel the plastic of his frames pressing against her skin, and there was no focusing on anything else. Mark was teasing her to wit’s end, and the surge from the coffee was now coursing through her body. She squirmed, failing to stop the smile on her face, and she could feel Mark smiling against her as his hand was gently running lines up and down her thigh.

“I love when you look all sleepy and demure. I don't feel half as intimidated by your gregarious outlook on everything...it feels like I have a shot,” he jokingly growled into her neck, nibbling her earlobe. Bridget grinned. 

“You know, Mark...speaking of loving how you look, I've been meaning to talk to you.” Mark pulled away, his hand coming up to his face to remove his glasses. Bridget stopped him, grabbing his hand. “No, keep them.” Now looking thoroughly confused, Mark lowered his hand and propped himself up on an elbow. “Bridget, what's this all about?”

Bridget took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. “I don't know why I haven't brought this up to you before, and now that I am I feel even more awkward than I thought I would, but I'm just going to say it.” Mark now looked concerned, his brow furrowed and a frown on his lips. Bridget made eye contact with him and blurted out, “You look so fucking sexy in those glasses and I've been fantasizing about you in them for weeks.” 

Mark's face was utterly perplexed. Bridget could feel the flush in her cheeks practically burning. In the next second, Mark’s confusion broke into a full on grin as he growled, “Oh really now.” 

Bridget glanced over at him and nodded. “Like,  _ really  _ fucking sexy. Like, hot professor sexy. Or like that one friend you have who has a really hot dad.”

 

Mark’s grin faltered as he said, “Bridget, that's kind of weird.”

 

“OK, fine, scratch the dad thing.”

 

“But, you know, your paper  _ is  _ two days past due, Ms. Jones,” Mark sternly replied, looking over his glasses at her. Bridget felt a quiver shoot through her body. “I'm awfully sorry, Professor Darcy,” she replied, putting on her most demure face. Mark ran his finger up her arm as he said, “There should probably be some kind of...consequence.” 

In the next flash, Mark threw the duvet off of both of them. He climbed on top of Bridget, both hands firmly planted on either side of her hips as his mouth hungrily kissed her collarbone. His kisses slowly descended on her body, making a gentle trail down to the heat between her legs. 

 

Bridget let out a shudder, her breath caught in her throat. “Oh,  _ Mark _ ,” she breathed.

 

Mark’s head popped up, his glasses askew and a grin on his face. 

 

“That’s professor to you, Ms. Jones.”


End file.
